The law and the King
by Sentinelle
Summary: Aragorn wisely rules his kingdom, assisted by Faramir. But their friendship is not seen as a good thing by all Gondor ... No slash as usual. Translation of "La loi et le Roi". English isn't my native language!
1. Chapter 1

**Great thanks to Rohanyoshi, my beta-reader, and Lindahoyland, who has encouraged me to translate this story. Both of them patiently explain me the subtleties of their native language.**

 **If mistakes remain, it's because of my carelessness, not theirs!**

Chapter 1

Aragorn stood up with a sigh. He had just spent the morning with Faramir, poring over many letters that arrived every morning; a rather tedious task, but luckily alleviated by the Steward's help, who took charge himself of everything that did not necessarily demanded that the King read and sign it. The young man ; a quill in his hand, was finalizing the last letter of the morning.

Stretching his back, Aragorn walked to the window, letting the sunlight warm his face. These hours of work seemed a pleasant recreation compared with what would happen after lunch: the weekly Council. Since his coronation, Aragorn often harshly struggled the five Councillors, heard so little under Denethor's stewardship they were now doing anything to influence the King to further their own interests.

He was reluctant to simply remove them from office and replace them with men he knew to be faithful and devoted to Gondor, for he feared that he would be thought a tyrant then. However, he was sure that the decision would be gladly accepted by his steward: once, deeply pained by the attitude of Councillors, Faramir had even opposed them during a meeting, when they dared to question royal authority. The ardor of the young man had comforted Aragorn: he was not alone, and could count on a valuable support.

"Does it please you to break the fast outside, my lord? » asked Faramir, who had just got get up and to entrusted a bundle of scrolls a servant.

« I thank you for this good idea, 'said Aragorn, smiling. We had better get some air before returning to those great solemn rooms. "

They took their meal together, as usual. Servants moved a table and chairs on the terrace of Aragorn's office, and laid the dishes before quietly going away. The Steward had long asked for the honor of serving the King while he ate, but Aragorn had always refused, not accustomed to be served; then they sat opposite each other, helping themselves.

Eager to lighten his spirits, Aragorn asked Faramir about horse breeding in the city. He knew his Steward loved horses as much as him, and he was very interested in the revival of farms in Gondor, since the herds could graze again in peace in the plains.

Faramir replied graciously, visibly happy, too, to speak about a more pleasant topic than administration. However, as usual, he remained reserved, almost timid, while his eyes rested with respect and love on his king. Aragorn liked his loyalty and dedication, but he longed for an intimate; and he hoped that, as over the years, Faramir's reserve would decrease, and he would dare to behave towards the King as a friend.

When the bells of the city rang the first hour after the sun's zenith, Aragorn felt almost exhilarated.

"Come", he said with a sardonic smile. "Let us prepare for a joyful meeting …"

« There are few topics to discuss today, my lord", Faramir replied. "The Council will soon be completed. "

Aragorn smiled. He would have preferred a pat on the shoulder, as the Rangers' habit, but these words of encouragement, and the confidence that Faramir would be at his side to assist him at the Council, strengthened him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The two men walked to their own rooms. They quickly donned their official robes that had been laid out on their beds and went into the Council Chamber.

When the Councillors stood up at their entrance, Aragorn felt their resentment towards him and his Steward more strongly than ever; it seemed to him that an invisible wall had risen with them, that he had to strive to break.

As usual, but with barely veiled ambition, the Councillors in turn expounded their claims. Aragorn, who had begun to be accustomed to this behaviour, quietly replied by invoking the law and the duties incumbent on them; but inside he was seething.

When a Councillor rose to demand higher taxes on wheat, claiming an unlikely royal treasury deficit, Aragorn glanced towards Faramir, who had not yet spoken. To his surprise, he noticed that the young man was very pale, his eyes fixed on a point at his feet.

"Are you unwell, my friend? "asked the King, putting an hand on his forearm.

Faramir gasped, as if under the effect of a blow; he jumped up and briskly got away from the King, knocking over his chair. On his face was read an unexpected expression : terror. Aragorn thought of a deer cornered by hounds after a long hunt.

Forcing himself to calm, he stepped forward and wanted to speak to the Steward; but his soothing words died on his lips when, with an inarticulate cry, Faramir flew at him.

Aragorn dodged the furious charge, but with a surprisingly smooth movement, Faramir spun around and threw his hands to the King's throat. The latter found himself pinned against the wall, his hands gripping Faramir's wrists. With painful astonishment, he looked at the fair face of Faramir, a few inches from his, breathless, his eyes wide, mad with fear.

Yes. He was mad.

Aragorn's hold suddenly gave way when Faramir was violently pulled back by two Councillors, who had seized his shoulders. With a cry, the Steward struggled furiously and fell to the ground, with his two opponents. A guard, who had probably entered the room on hearing the din, helped them to hold him down.

Aragorn knelt quietly. There was no anger, no desire to kill in Faramir's look; only the fear that grips every man engaged with people wanting to harm him, and drives him to defend his life.

The Steward flinched violently when Aragorn put his hand on his forehead, but gradually his wild movements subsided and he closed his eyes. The silence was absolute, broken only by Faramir's hoarse gasps.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he opened his eyes and looked at the King. All fear was gone from his eyes, which now just showed great confusion.

"My lord, he murmured, what ...? "

But before Aragorn could utter a word, the First Counsellor, one of three who had stayed away, stepped forward and pointed a finger at Faramir.

"This man is guilty of an attempted regicide! He deserves death! "


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Faramir cast a horrified look at the King and tried to get up. Aragorn slid his hand from the Steward's forehead to his shoulder.

"Peace, Faramir. I am unharmed, and I know you haven't done anything. »

"What do you know about that, my lord?'" asked the Councillor. 'You saw him, he threw himself on you with the intent to kill you! We all are witnesses!"

"It was not of his own will," Aragorn said in a firm voice.

"That must be proven!" roared the Councillor.

His two other colleagues continued in the same manner, while those standing beside the King dared not speak. As for Faramir, he had lowered his head and said nothing, as if he had just received a severe stroke.

Aragorn realized that he would not be able to exonerate Faramir in all this commotion. It was necessary that the turmoil settle, and that the desire to clarify the events predominated.

The decision he took then seemed the best, although he did not take it with joy.

"Guard, put Lord Steward under confinement until this matter is settled. For now, I will pronounce no sentence on him. "

Then he turned back to Faramir.

"I know you are innocent," he assured him. "I'm sorry for causing you this inconvenience, but I can hardly do otherwise, alas. Trust me, you will soon be free and cleared of all suspicion! "

To his sorrow, Faramir kept his eyes down and said nothing. The Steward rose obediently when the guard grabbed his shoulder, and, without a word, was led away, looking downcast.

IIIIIII

It was with a heavy heart that Aragorn returned to his study. He sat down and, thoughtfully playing with a quill, he thought back over all the recent events, trying to work out what had happened to Faramir. When he had laid his hand on Faramir's forehead, he had perceived that the Steward's spirit was disorganized, as if under the effect of a high fever; and Aragorn's healing power had surged from his hand, proving that there was something to treat. But Aragorn was absolutely unable to determine what had been put Faramir in this state ...

A timid tap on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Come in," he said almost without thinking.

A maid appeared at the doorway. She curtsied before bursting into tears.

"What is the matter?" Aragorn asked.

"I beg of you, my lord', she whispered between sobs. "Do not allow anything to happen to my family!"

" I can place them under guard, if it would reassure you', Aragorn replied, not understanding. "But could you tell me what you are afraid of."

These words seemed to soothe the maid; she raised her head and wiped her tears with her the back of her hand.

"There is, my lord, a rumour that Lord Faramir tried to attack you. I know something that might be important about it. Please, my lord, have mercy on my family!"

"You have my word it will not happen anything to them. What do you know? "

The maid's voice was reduced to a whisper.

"This morning, I went to the Lord Steward's room to lay out his ceremonial robes; but on the way, I met the First Counsellor. He ordered me to give him the clothes, telling me that he will take them to the Steward himself. He said if I told anyone, terrible things would happen to my family! "

A sudden flash of understanding crossed Aragorn's mind. He had heard of poisons acting through the skin; it was sufficient to apply them to a garment, then take it to the desired person.

He jumped up, startling the maid. What she had told him was sufficient to free Faramir from prison. Moreover, he wanted to inspect the Steward's clothes, in order to see if they still bore the trace of a poison that might have been poured on it.

"Guard!" he called out as he left his office. "Lead me to the prison."

"You, my lord?" asked the guard, surprised enough by this request to dare to question it.

"Yes. It's my fault the Steward is there, and I want to personally get him out. »

 **To be continued**


End file.
